The Final Frontier
by Dark Austral
Summary: Sam was so Bones, Cas Spock and damn straight he's James T. Kirk.  Just a fun little fic


**Summary:**Sam was so Bones, Cas Spock and damn straight he's James T. Kirk.

**A/N**: This fic is inspired by Star Trek: The Final Frontier, the camping scene early on where Kirk, McCoy and Spoke are on shore leave. Just wanted to write something fun for a change.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the boys, Star Trek or Queen.

**The Final Frontier**

Humming, Dean pats his full stomach as he stretches out, feet warming up by the campfire. Snuggling against the log, he takes in a deep breath of warm summer air, a sweet mixture of hay and smoke. Above them, the Dakota sky shimmers with prickles of stars while the crickets buzz lightly in the backdrop of a large field. "This is the life," he exlaims, polishing off another beer.

Sam hums in agreement, closing his eyes as he stretches out those endless long limbs of his in every direction, the light clank of his own tiny collection of bottles glittering golden from the light. The fire cackles as the young Winchester kicks lightly at a hanging stick. His features smooth out, the horrors of remembrance fading away leaving behind a content smile.

Across from the pair, Castiel hunches on the edge of his sleeping bag, eyes skimming the pages of a little book. Dean rolls his eyes, huffing slightly as he notes the dark blue flannel is big on the slim frame. Despite losing the trench coat and suit ensemble, everything seems to swallow up the man, as if showing how much the ex-angel is drowning in humanity.

Steering away from the morbid thoughts, Dean lets his curiosity win out. "What you got there?" Cas reads the most random books ever, that sometimes when no one is looking Dean finds himself sneaking a look. Because really, who writes a book on how to shit in the woods properly?

Blue eyes flash with worry as they glance up. There's still hesitancy, a permanent scar of guilt that he's done something wrong. It's something Dean recognizes when he looks in the mirror everyday. "It…it is a book about camping."

"You picked up a book on camping?" He should have seen that coming a mile away. But what's worse though is Cas doing research on their vacation. What part of vacation didn't Cas understand the twenty times Dean explained it to him. "What the hell is there to know to write a book that thick? All you need is a bonfire, beer and a sleeping bag."

Sam opens his eyes just enough to glare at his brother. "Last time I checked you didn't know a damn thing about camping either Dean. You actually hated it."

"Yeah well, I thought we give it a shot. Sometimes, Sammy you just gotta stop and smell the roses."

Cas' lips thin as he fixes his attention back on the page, "I thought it was because Bobby was going to shoot us if we didn't get out of his house."

Dean's about to scowl when Sam scoots himself upwards, "Not to mention we're camping right across from the man's house. Oh yeah, this is so camping in the great outdoors." Sam raises his hand and quotes around the last two words, teasing Dean with that all mighty younger brother nerd tone.

"That's just because if its starts to rain or snow, we got somewhere to go so you don't have to freeze that princess butt of yours, bitch" snipes back Dean.

Sam huffs, his cheeks blushing slightly. "Jerk." Oh it's on now.

The soft timber of another voice ceases the rising brotherly bickering. Cas closes his book tucking it somewhere in the folds of his sleeping bag. "The woman at the store recommended roasting some marshmallows. Supposedly it is a very good treat."

Dean groans as he flicks a stone at the dumped out supply bag. No marshmallows are sticking out amongst the brown and yellow bags of jerky and chips. "Guess we'll just have to go with plan B."

Cas nods slowly, his shoulders slumping at not being able to partake in what sounded like a ritual. Sam merely cocks his head, his eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out the elusive plan B. Dean sighs leaning forward to fish out his flask. "We'll roast some marshmallows on another day, Cas. We'll also make sure there is chocolate and graham crackers so you can have a smore."

"A Smore?" The ex-angel's voice and eyes perk up with childlike interest. Dean can't help but chuckle, remembering that Gabe was Cas' brother and who knows; the angel might have a sweet tooth just like his older brother.

"It's sticky awesomeness," Dean hums, licking his lips. Clapping his hands softly, Dean sits cross-legged against the ground. "Well Spock, Bones. What are we gonna do now?"

"My name is not Spock."

"We are not telling ghost stories."

Sam and Cas speak over each other, making Dean shake his head with a wide grin as he unscrews the flask. "Oh come on, you two totally are. And I am so Kirk." The blank expressions make him sigh, "Don't you remember that Star Trek movie, where the three of them are out camping. Oh come on Cas, don't give me that look. It was the one that we watched where Spock's brother tries to find God."

Realization dawns, Cas' eyes widening with a faint joy that he could understand a pop culture reference. "I remember now. The one with Uhura dancing?"

Dean waggles his eyebrows, "That's the one Cas."

Sam rolls his eyes, "You are such a Trekkie."

"Shut up, Sam." Just as the name leaves his lips, inspiration dawns brightening Dean's eyes. Sam feels worry being to creep at the back of his mind with what crazy plan his gung-ho brother is concocting. "If you are thinking what I think you are, I am so not dancing around with a big feather."

Dean scoffs his heel against the ground, sending dirt flying at Sam. "Get your mind of the gutter." Mumbling, Sam bats away the dirt from his jeans as Dean opens his arms as if proclaiming something profound. "We'll sing Row, Row, Row your boat."

"You have got to be-" mutters Sam but Dean ignores him, crooning loud and bad, "Row. Row. Row your boat!"

With Dean rearing back a foot as if threatening to kick out again, Sam lashes out to grab Dean's flask. Taking down a burning gulp, he bellows out, "Row. Row. Row your boat," over "Gently down the stream!"

"Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily."

"Gently down the stream."

"Life is but a dream!"

Pausing, two sets of eyes lock onto Cas, waiting for him to jump in. Blue eyes just stare back, confusion written all over. Blinking, Cas speaks out with that no-doubt conviction he had when proclaiming himself an Angel of the Lord. "Life is not a dream. You both know this. Besides, we do not have a boat."

Sam can't help it, he really can't and wishes he had a camera for this. Dean screams out in the air his defeat, throwing his arms up in surrender as Cas shakes his head hissing something Enochian under his breath. Erupting in full-blown laughter, ribs aching, falling flat on his back, Sam gasps for air with tears running down his face. This is just too surreal.

"Fine!" Jumping on his feet, Dean points a finger down at Cas, that righteous determination setting his green eyes on fire. "We'll sing another song. And I know you know this song Cas cause I've caught you singing it in the shower!"

A blush blazes across Cas' cheeks and Sam's laughter screeches to an uncomfortable giggle because really? How would Dean know what Cas sings in the shower? Or even that he sings period. Dean grins in victory, oblivious to what left his mouth. Taking a sip, he throws the flask over to Cas. "Now you are going to jump in otherwise I'm not taking you to that violin concert you've been hinting at for the last couple of weeks."

Sam snorts as he fights back another laughing fit as Cas' glare takes on a smiting tone. Dean just waves it off, clearing his throat as if he's about to perform on Broadway. In a small calm voice he sings out softly, "I see a little silhouette of a man."

Green eyes full of an old childish nature wink down at Sam. Memories of Dean and him belting out to Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody while trying to head-bang Wayne's World style flash before him. A smile splits his face. He is so on board with this.

Scrambling up onto his own feet, Sam croons out, "Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango!"

"Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me!" Dean waves his arms pretending to summon thunder while throwing down a lightening bolt. Lowering his voice Dean rumbles out, "Galileo!"

Sam curls his hands to his chest, raising his voice in a high pitch, "Galileo!"

Deep. "Galileo."

High. "Galileo."

Together, the two Winchester brothers scream out, "Galileo!" thrusting an arm downwards at Cas.

The dark-haired man sits still as stone with a very much deer-in-the-headlight look. All Dean does is tilt his hands, raising one to move back and forwards, pretending to play a violin. Grinding his teeth, eyes narrowing into slits, Cas unscrews the flask before taking a long deep drink. Lips smacking lightly, he tosses the empty flask behind him fidgeting slightly as a whispered "Figaro Magnifico" comes out.

Sam smiles with approval as Dean melodramatically acts out the next line by tucking his hands under his chin while giving the sky wide puppy-dog eyes. "I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me."

Hazel and green flicker once more downwards. Cas and Sam sing out the next verse. Well Sam sings. Cas speaks, still unconfident if his fingers curling around the frayed edges of sleeves are any indication. "He's just a poor boy from a poor family."

Sam breaks off as Dean bends down picking up another bottle of beer as he inches his way over to Cas. Grabbing tightly to the thin shoulder, he hauls up the slightly smaller man locking his arm over the shoulder now as he fishes. "Spare him his life from this monstrosity!"

Taking a drink, he passes the beer over. A shadow of a smile peeking out, Cas can't fight it anymore, soaking in the infectious glee. Sipping from the beer, he sings out softly over Dean's loud croon. "Easy come, easy go."

Sam jumps in, giving the pair a pouting lip and batting eyes. "Will you let me go?"

Dean nods at Cas, who sings out more strongly, "Bismillah!"

Deeping his voice again, Dean responds shaking his head with a stern, "No. We will not let you go."

"Let him go!" croons out Sam, tilting his head back and reaching a higher pitch.

All the while, Dean and Cas fall into a competition of who can lower.

"Bismillah."

"We will not let you go."

"Let him go!"

"Bismillah."

"We will not let you go!"

Sam stretches out, back arching, arms stretched out and wide singing without a care. "Let me go!"

Dean folds his arms across his chest, turning to lean up against Cas, who stands still watching with amused eyes as they sing back. "Will not let you go."

"Let me go!"

"Will not let you go."

"Let me go!"

All are caught up in the moment of acting out their lines, trying to out-best the other singing loudly and without a care into the night sky, the fire a steady warmth between them.

"Ah, no, no, no, no, No, NO!" A large gasp of air before Sam huffs and sags down, "OH mama mia, mama mia. Mama mia, let me go."

Then all three grin at each other, fighting to hold back the laughter as they belt out, "Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me!"

And as Sam holds out the note, Dean falls into the air guitar as he and Sam head-bang as Cas belts out the instrumental part as best as he can.

Ending with a keening riff and their necks sore, Dean and Sam collapse onto the ground laughing pure and simple as Cas' shoulders shake with his own quiet laughter. Taking a deep breath, Sam is about to suggest they sing Bicycle Race next, remembering how as kids they would run around and pretend to do races. Teaching Cas their crazy antics is too much of an entertaining gem to pass up. Over the golden blaze, he spots the gleam in Dean's eyes. Oh yeah this is going to be awesome.

But just as Dean's about to open his mouth to start the next round, the guitar riff of his cell breaks out. Grumbling out his annoyance, Dean fishes out his cell and flips it open. "What?"

Bobby's voice echoes loud and clear, "Alright Three Sopranos, if you're done slaughtering my eardrums, some of us are trying to get some beauty sleep here."

Cas opens his mouth, guilt evident in his eyes. Dean is a step ahead, slamming his hand over the other man's mouth as he chuckles. "Too bad, Bobby. This party is just getting started. I suggest you come join us or grab that old headset of yours and listen to some Enya." They can hear Bobby's rising retort but Dean cuts off with, "Sam grab the Jake," before he flips the phone closed and tosses it over onto Cas' sleeping bag. "Lets get this party started."

Shaking his head, Sam grabs the bottle. As the tall Winchester runs out into the field plotting out the best obstacle, Dean reaches down to grab Cas' hand, dragging him out into the dark field. "Time to teach you how to have a proper bicycle race, Cas."

"We have no bikes, Dean." This time though there's a teasing tone and Dean can't help but glance over at his shoulder spotting the tiny smirk lightening those dark blues into their familiar glow.

"That's why it's gonna be all the more fun, Cas." Winking, Dean turns yelling into the open night sky, "Bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle!"

Sam yells back far off in the distant, "I want to ride my bicycle!"

Later that night, well into the gray hours of the morning, Dean lies exhausted under his sleeping bag. It's a good exhaustion though despite the scraps and burns from his many trips and collisions. At his right, Sam is stretched out in his bag, a permanent smirk of the winner on his face. To his left, Cas is snuggling deep into his own sleeping bag, blurry blue eyes shining with content into the dull red coals.

"Night Sam," Dean sighs as he closes his own eyes.

"Night Dean," mumbles Sam.

"Night Cas," he whispers out.

"Goodnight Sam," starts Cas.

"Night' Cas," patters out Sam as he falls asleep out.

"Goodnight Dean," murmurs Cas as his eyes drift shut.

With a tiny grin, Dean yawns out, "Night."


End file.
